One of the most jarring parts of the Brexit vote was that no one expected it to win, maybe not even the campaigners themselves. Somehow, the brewing economic strife and racial resentments in the UK escaped our notice. Everyone had laughed.Īmong our group of friends, when talk turns to issues of racism or poverty, it’s usually centered on the United States, where the conflicts are loud and play out across media. At the time, both the probability of Trump becoming the Republican nominee for president and of the Leave voters winning the EU referendum seemed ludicrous. At the time, I had joked that we would definitely move to the UK if Donald Trump won in November. Shortly after Dave and I got married in March 2016, my new sisters had asked us where he and I would live. But then, on June 23, 2016, the UK decided to leave the European Union in a referendum that laid bare the painful class and race divisions that still exist there, and now we are no longer so sure about England. When we chose New York City, we decided there would still be time for living in London in a few years, to start a family overseas. Both of our careers are here, and I leased my apartment when the going was good, so our rent is reasonable. It ’ s wild to think about, but our ability to live in the same place requires state approval.Ĭhoosing New York City, rather than London, as our home base was easy. Legally, I do not belong in his country, and he does not belong in mine, and yet we belong together. That is, as soon as the United States grants my husband a visa to stay here. Our courthouse date marked the beginning of our new life together. For all our world vagabonding, we were back at the place where it all began.īut the question of where we go next has been far more fraught. On our way to the subway after the ceremony, my friend pressed a keepsake into my palm, a kitschy refrigerator magnet that read: “ I got married in New York City. A photographer captured our vows and the snow that stood in for wedding confetti.
Our friends and family flew in from the UK, Colorado, and Puerto Rico, where I am from, to share in the day. Three years after our casual, non-committal afternoon coffee date, we were married at the City Clerk ’ s Office in Manhattan. Meeting up abroad taught us to trust one another and to solve problems when, for example, we missed a train in Valencia or needed to get to a hospital in Thailand. So much of our courtship - an old-fashioned word - took place in neutral, international spaces that it often felt like the world was ours. I didn ’ t know waterfalls could do that. Half the Falls were frozen, and it looked like a cloud was suspended over the water. One frigid January, we found ourselves on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. And when he wasn ’ t in town for some conference or important meeting, we found ways to meet up in other cities around the world, places where each of us could enter easily with our respective passports.
Luckily for us, over the next three years, his work brought him back to New York regularly.
He listened patiently, nodded, and proceeded to call me every day that he was away. I let him know that I had no expectation that we ’ d keep in touch. This is when I tried to give him an out, explaining to him that long-distance relationships rarely last, especially when the distance in question is an ocean. First, Dave extended his trip to New York by two weeks before returning to England. That was the plan.įalling in love with a charming Englishman is shockingly easy, but staying together is nothing short of a test of will and resolve. We ’ d meet for coffee and I could tell my friends that I ’ d been brave and met a man from the Internet, and then he would leave the country and I would never have to meet a man from the Internet again.
I picked the boy out because his picture looked friendly and his profile said that he only had two weeks left in the States. We Belong Together By Gabriela Resto-Montero
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